


It's dark on the other side and madness is waiting

by fullmoon02



Category: Blitz (2011)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:20:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5933128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullmoon02/pseuds/fullmoon02
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His gut was telling him they were too late before he even shut off the car engine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's dark on the other side and madness is waiting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linndechir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/gifts).



_ I've spent a lifetime running _

_ And I always get away _

_ But with you I'm feeling something _

_ That makes me want to stay _

(Sam Smith: Writings on the Wall)

Brant had learned a lot of things over the years, one of which was to trust his gut. And right now his gut was telling him they were too late before he even shut off the car engine.

They weren’t even supposed to be there. While driving to meet a possible witness, they had gotten a call asking for backup. A man was holding his kid and ex-wife hostage. Nasty situation, and way too complex for Brant’s liking. Secretly he wanted to ignore the call but the decision was Nash’s. When his partner responded saying that they’d help, Brant made a U-turn without a question. Their witness wasn’t going anywhere, they’d just have to wait a little longer.

While driving, they listened to the discussion over the radio. At first, things were hectic, messages shooting back and forth. Then it got quiet - and Brant knew that meant no good.

Arriving at their destination, Brant parked the car and got out, asking for an update. The stricken expression and a head shake he got from the officer told him all he needed to know.

“How bad?” Brant asked, looking at the house.

“Murder-suicide. The guy shot the kid and himself. The mother was physically unharmed, but…”

Brant sighed. He would need a drink after this.

His partner had stayed closer to their car. Walking to him, Brant wondered if they should still go to talk with their witness. He didn’t feel up to it, but work was work.

“Bad?” Nash asked, his gaze empathetic.

“Yeah,” Brant nodded. “The father shot the kid and himself. There’s nothing we can do here.”

Nash got inside the car, letting Brant take the driver’s seat. It was a while before either of them said a word.

***

They arrived at Nash’s house, but Nash seemed unwilling to part with Brant. The silence between them was heavy but not uncomfortable. Finally, Nash looked up from his hands, asking Brant where he was going to go.

“I’ll need a drink.”

“Wanna be alone?”

Glancing at his partner, Brant said no.

Nash rarely drank alcohol. When he did, he usually enjoyed a glass of good whiskey and left it at that. This had made Brant call him a snob but it was always said in good humor. Now Nash played with this empty glass, observing his partner. Brant’s drinking seemed almost desperate, like he wanted to wash the memories of the day out of his mind. Nash tried to remind him, in vain, that they were still expected to go to work the next day. Deciding Brant had had enough, Nash stood up and snatched the bottle from Brant’s hands. Expecting an argument, he kept his tone firm when he told Brant to let it be. To his surprise, Brant only shrugged, accepting his loss. Nash took a mental note of this. It was unlike the stubborn man not to argue when someone tried to tell him what to do.

***

Leaving Brant headed in the living room, Nash went to the bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes. While he was away, Brant had chosen to lie down on the couch.

“Hey,” Nash said with a mock frustration, “you’re taking up all the space.”

Brant's only reply was a shrug.

“Your choice.” Nash lifted Brant’s head and shoulders so they were on his lap when he sat down. Brant didn’t protest. Petting Brant’s skull, Nash leaned back, falling into his thoughts.

Suddenly, a sharp voice called his name. Waking with a start, Nash stared into the darkness until registering Brant’s warm body. Looking down, he saw Brant's questioning look.

“I fell asleep, huh?”

“You had a nightmare,” Brant answered.

Nash tried to remember what the dream was about. His nightmares tended to be bad, making him remember them vividly even when awake. But this one seemed to escape him.

“Wanna talk about it?” Brant asked.

“I don’t remember it.”

“Maybe it was about what happened today?” Brant suggested.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“A thing like that can get under your skin.”

“Can you blame me?”

“I’m not that much of an asshole.”

Nash gave him a short smile. “I know.”

The comfortable silence between them lingered for a few minutes. Nash wondered if he should try to get back to sleep. He listened to Brant’s even breathing, letting his hands roam over his warm body. Pulling up the helm of Brant’s shirt, he felt his strong muscles under the soft skin. Brant squirmed a little under his touch, encouraging Nash to continue. With a wicked smile, he slipped his hand inside Brant’s underwear, gripping his half-hard cock. When Nash leaned forward for a kiss, he saw the lust in Brant’s eyes.

***

Nash’s whispered demand to take care of him was all Brant needed. Jumping up, he manhandled Nash into his arms, carrying him towards the bedroom. They were halfway there when Brant pushed Nash against the wall, starting to undress him. Brant kissed, licked and bit Nash’s neck, chest, and shoulders until he was shaking. Nash tried desperately to create friction in his aching cock. Seeing his desperation, Brant took him in his hand, finishing the job with a few strokes. Nash’s trembling, yet talented, fingers played with Brant’s cock until shivers down his spine and he climaxed too, coming in his pants.

Nash took a moment to catch his breath before kneeling in front of his friend. Taking Brant’s underwear off his body, his slightly trembling hands almost tearing them, Nash let Brant wipe his hands on the garment before he threw it towards the bathroom door. He lacked the energy or motivation to carry the item all the way to the laundry basket.

Helping Nash up, Brant led them to the bedroom, collapsing on the bed. Leaning his head on Brant’s chest, Nash focused on the feelings of safety and trust he’d learned to associate with his friend. Closing his eyes, he whispered a small thank you. Brant’s answer was to pet his hair and to tell him he was safe and could go to sleep. It didn’t take long for Nash to do just that.


End file.
